1
Inventing Obsolescence
Before Obsolescence
Prior to the twentieth century, conceptions of architectural time in the Western tradition prioritized permanence and gradual change. The past persists visibly in centuries-old monuments, such as the ancient Roman arch of Septimius Severus, illustrated by the famed eighteenth-century printmaker Giovanni Battista Piranesi (fig. 1.1). Nature and history worked their slow decay, the same picture shows. At the same time, human reuse adapted gently to the past, as we can see in the middleground, where the ruined Temple of Saturn is repurposed to mundane ends. And new architecture hewed to deep time as well. The seventeenth-century baroque church of Santi Luca e Martina, in Piranesiâs background, features classical columns and a symmetrical composition, which echo antecedents from centuries before. Ruinscapes like these parade architectural continuity. Time proceeds slowly. The past endures. Even when the nineteenth-century English architect John Soane famously had his monumental Bank of England building pictured in an exhibition watercolor as a ruin, with its roofs and walls sheared away, he did so not to promote the value of transience but to underscore his and the institutionâs dream of immortal, Romanlike grandeur.1
Aesthetically, classical design, the dominant Western tradition since the Renaissance, strove for ideals of fixity and permanence. The Italian theorist and architect Leon Battista Alberti, in his seminal fifteenth-century treatise, defined formal perfection as âthat reasoned harmony of all parts within a body, so that nothing may be added, taken away, or altered, but for the worse.â2 According to Albertiâs prescription, a building was beautiful only when it appeared unchangeable and finished in time. Architects followed this vision for centuries. Constructions of permanent stone, like Santi Luca e Martina in Piranesiâs print, are embellished with centralizing motifs, like temple fronts or triumphal arches, and framed at their ends by projecting stonework or columns. These conventions of centralized, framed arrangement embodied an aesthetic of symmetry, hierarchy, and completion, implying an eternal order in their very composition.
Temporal continuity and stability was valued beyond the classical tradition. Mid-nineteenth-century British medieval revivalists esteemed historical âdevelopmentâââcontinued, gradual, tranquilâ change, explains the architectural historian David Brownlee.3 The Gothic revival philosopher and critic John Ruskin extolled the virtues of permanence. âArchitecture is always destroyed causelessly,â he proclaimed in The Seven Lamps of Architecture (1849).4 Other nineteenth-century observers, who accepted modernity more readily than Ruskin, still wished for traditional architectural endurance. âWe are not like our fathers, building for a short time only,â the American critic Mariana Griswold van Rensselaer wrote in the Century Illustrated Magazine in 1884 about modern commercial New York. âTheir structures have proved but temporary, while for ours a life may be predicted as long as the cityâs own.â5 Van Rensselaer acknowledged the explosive initial development of a modern city but wished to see it slowed down in maturity, returning to architectural longevity.
To be sure, impermanent structures had always existed. Festivals, pageants, coronations, and fairs throughout history stood just for a moment. Famously in Japan, the wood temples at Ise have for centuries been reconstructed identically every two decades. But Japanese material impermanence fixes permanent principles; each generation internalizes the religious and architectural lessons of the past. The buildings may be deliberately transient, but the goal is eternal values. Occasionally, a building type in history had to face up to modern-style obsolescenceârapid, continuous devaluation and supersession engendered by external factors of innovation and competition. Renaissance fortifications, for instance, had notably short lives owing to improved siege technology. But this was unusual. Durability was the norm in building and values. It was only in the twentieth century that obsolescence became understood as a universal condition of built environment changeâpermanent and ceaseless replacement of structures and habits, applicable to all building types, regardless of function, form, and cultural meaning.
Another historical antecedent of modern obsolescence might perhaps be found in past large-scale urban renewals caused by natural disaster, war, or politics. The famous mid-nineteenth-century redevelopment of Paris, led by Baron Georges-EugĂšne Haussmann, impelled the poet Charles Baudelaire at the time to lament, âAlas, a cityâs face changes faster than the heart of a mortal.â6 But no one at the time envisioned Haussmannâs redevelopment to be endless, rebuilt again and again, ad infinitum. Only in the twentieth century did a pace of unending, ceaseless change in the built environment come to be understood as the new normal.
In nineteenth-century culture the possibility of permanently shortened building lives and cultural values was recognized but not yet accepted as a desired end. Nathaniel Hawthorne in The House of the Seven Gables (1851) has the youthful âwild reformerâ Holgrave declare provocatively, âIt were better that [our public edifices] should crumble to ruin, once in twenty years, or thereabouts, as a hint to the people to examine into and reform the institutions which they symbolize.â7 Fixed building lives would reflect and impel radical change in each generation, Holgrave prophesies. By novelâs end, however, Holgrave has reversed himself. He admits that âthe happy man inevitably confines himself within ancient limits.â And he imagines that he himself would âbuild a house for another generationâ (emphasis added), not a short-life building.8
The romantic idealâinvented in the nineteenth century and ultimately disavowed by Holgraveâthat each age produces its own architecture was influentially voiced in France by Victor Hugo. âThis Will Kill That,â reads a famous chapter title in Hugoâs novel Notre-Dame de Paris (1831), one technology superseding another. He hypothesized that the printed page had replaced architecture in the fifteenth century as âthe principal register of mankind.â9 In Hugoâs time, some contemporary structures did appear to satisfy the desire to express architecturally the industrial character of the age. But spectacles like the vast 1851 Crystal Palace glass-and-iron exhibition pavilion in London were not considered proper architecture precisely because of their evident impermanence, even as they housed and embodied the latest marvels of machine civilization. Other aspects of the nineteenth-century Industrial Revolution did indirectly inspire the idea of architectural obsolescence and can be credited more directly with increasing the pace and scope of creative destruction generally.
The quickening business world, especially the cutting-edge railroad industry, which involved ever more people, goods, information, equipment, and capital, took an increasingly âdeep and vested interest in a rigorous definition and measurement of time,â explains the geographer David Harvey.10 From this arose a new class of professional experts, including engineers, economists, and accountants, who sought to master not just space and nature, but that key factor in industrial productivity and profit management, time itself. Timeâs effect on value was of particular concern to modern accounting. By 1840, historians report, âthe concept of depreciation was widely known and the need to recognize wear and tear explicitly discussed in publications available to British and U.S. textile mill owners and managers.â11 Assessing financial losses due to material wear and tear allowed industrial enterprises to value more accurately their capital assets for taxation, financing, and sale purposes, taking into consideration the dimension of time. Depreciation thus represented âa rational tool for management facing diversity and complexity.â12
Obsolescence emerged alongside depreciation as a financial risk management tool. Yet whereas depreciation resulted from slow, more or less predictable, physical wear and tear, obsolescence was different. It âwas the loss which is constantly arising from the superseding of machines before they are worn out, by others of a new and better construction,â said Karl Marx, citing an 1862 English source.13 He called this process âmoral depreciation,â but the more common term was obsolescence, from the Latin obsolescere (to grow old). The term was used first in sixteenth-century England to describe human speech âgrowne out of use,â then in the nineteenth century to describe an organismâs loss of function, before also encompassing inanimate machineryâs loss of utility. In this newly understood process an objectâs material integrity holds fastâit is still young and operates as intendedâbut its functional worth has declined. Something better has come along to devalue and supersede it, to make it expendable and disposable. By the early twentieth century the accounting distinction between depreciation and obsolescence was well established. âDepreciation in its narrow sense, is physicalâobsolescence economic,â defined the real estate taxation expert Joseph Hall in 1925.14
In architecture, application of the idea of physical depreciation emerged in late nineteenth-century America as a product of insurance and buildersâ estimates. The popular 1895 Architectâs and Builderâs Pocket-Book, by Frank E. Kidder, in its twelfth edition offered readers detailed life-span charts for a whole range of structures and materials, from frame to brick, dwelling to store, plaster to porches, with paint the shortest-lived component (five years) and sheathing the longest (fifty).15 The basis for these charts was an 1879 fire underwriterâs paper, which in turn was founded upon eighty-three buildersâ reports from eleven western states. But economic obsolescence distinct from physical depreciation did not factor into Kidderâs life-span numbers, which were simply material wear-and-tear rates.
Before 1900 the notion of obsolescence was thus absent from architectural thought. Buildings were expected to last for generations, along with the values and habits they embodied. Structures might wear out, but that process was slow, regular, and remediable. Rapid urban change might occur at one moment, but redevelopment would not be ceaseless. No one imagined a state of permanent expendability in the built environment. That idea had yet to be invented.
New York and Reginald Boltonâs Theory
The concept of obsolescence, in the English language, was first applied to the built environment around 1910. Lower Manhattan was the early epicenter for the invention of the idea of architectural obsolescence. In the 1890s New York property corporations began investing tens of millions of dollars in large new structures to accommodate the growing numbers of lawyers, accountants, bankers, managers, and other white-collar workers servicing the new corporate American economy. These tenants drove demand for the latest plumbing, heating, and elevator technologies. Their ever-changing desires had the effect of devaluing even the most recently constructed accommodations. The scope of the demand required new kinds of institutions and organizations to finance construction. Previously real estate investment dollars had been gathered from individuals or small groups. But big buildings needed big money. New joint-stock real estate investment companies collected capital through stock issues from scores of individual investors and came to combine under one roof construction, finance, and real estate, such as that of the United States Realty and Construction Company. Moreover, these novel development entities used the existing money markets to innovate mortgage bonds, in effect cutting mortgages up into hundred- or thousand-dollar increments to be publicly sold to even more investors, making it possible to raise for building amounts of money heretofore unimaginable. As the professional building manager Earle Shultz wrote of later, similar Chicago developments, âReplacement of old, obsolete buildings was made possible by the flood of money provided by the bond houses.â16
The result of all this cash and credit flowing into commercial real estate was intense market volatility. Growth and speculation hastened demolition and new construction. A boom-and-bust environment developed, with demand rising even as oversupply threatened investment values. The risk of catastrophic loss was profound, and as a result real estate capitalists faced harrowing unpredictability. This was the context then for the unsettling demolition of the thirteen-year-old Gillender Building in 1910 and the disappearance of numerous other short-lived commercial structures across the United States. As the author Henry James wrote in 1907, shocked upon seeing New York after years away, âOne story is good only till another is to...